Five times Mara Frey said Screw it to Red Fountain Heroism
by White as Sin
Summary: Wherein you don't need to go to a special school to become a badass in any dimension.


**Title:** Five times Mara Frey said "Screw it" to Red Fountain Heroism  
**Universe:** Winx Club  
**Theme/Topic:** "5 Times" AUs  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Character/Pairing/s:** Mara Frey, W, Bishop, Mirta  
**Spoilers/Warnings:** Massive use of original characters and artistic license; some implications of rape, veiled homophobia  
**Word Count:** 1, 631  
**Summary:** Wherein you don't need to go to a special school to become a badass in any dimension.  
**A/N:** Written after I got caught up with some of the later episodes of Winx and considering what other roles Mara could have played in the Magix universe, as well as a couple of remarks that commenters had made to "Under Shadowed Wings." See end for more notes.  
**Disclaimer:** No harm or infringement intended.

* * *

**1. The Litany**

She never woke screaming from the nightmares. She acted as she ever did. W knew.

People liked to think of W as a hot-headed idiot and he was, to a certain extent. But that wasn't all he was but he traded on the hot-headed idiot for their line of work. He wasn't erudite or soft spoken. He went up and personal with you and didn't have much appreciation for "personal space." People chose to think of him as less than bright and even less comfortable in his masculinity.

(This of course cued pointed and judicious use of flirting by his counterparts at the negotiations table, including a carefully careless hand slipping to his thigh and the carefully modulated "fey" voice brushing at his ear. When that invariably happened, he wouldn't go still and icy like a Bishop-type. But he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of disturbing him. The key was that it was hardly any effort for him to remain calm, even amused.)

But W didn't say anything to her. It was a wonder he still looked her in the eye. But she made him. She made him let her comb his shaggy hair and redye it with brilliant scarlet, not the muted burgundy it had been before. It seemed a little less dense now so he tried teasing it into dreads that he usually just left half-done in exasperation until she threatened to cut it all off in one go.

She also made him share a bed once in a while and they would lie on their backs, not touching each other save for their clasped hands. And maybe they both rehearsed that night, the screams and blood and sweat and musk. And he would have to think about the scars still silver-white on his wrists and she would almost touch her throat and have difficulties in swallowing anything. She never touched milk anymore.

Maybe it bothered him more than it did her, in the end. But he wouldn't tell her.

Finally, one night, she took his hands in hers and kissed his wrists. It wasn't enough to tell him that she never held it against him, that they had both made the bastards bleed in more ways than one. It wasn't enough to tell him that, even from her own mouth. So she kissed his wrists and tore open the shield that was up until time had made the memory dimmer and less immediate, when shame became more abstract. She tore it open and made him face it but all the while, she held his hand in hers as that fear and shame and pain washed over and through them, ripping down and roaring and leaving nothing in its wake. And it was only them standing now.

**2. Teeth**

Mme. Ruri had a new assistant whose hair color kept changing. It could be pitch black or acid green or blood red. But it never once hit pink. The closest it ever got was perhaps fuchsia, with more purple than red in it. She wore silver framed glasses and didn't gossip.

She had a phoenix with a peacock tail train on her arm, the makings of a full sleeve, as the space remaining filled with courtesans and castles and cats. No knights, however, except for a helmeted skeleton with a tattered banner somewhere on her wrist. Maybe it was to hide that her fingertips were almost permanently black, her nails broken and splintering.

She was known for her baking, though. Marvelous treats. Conical macaron towers of blue and yellow, cakes dusted with powder and marzipan berries. Her sugar icing work looked like lace and snowflakes that melted on the tongue.

Somehow, people never remembered the tattoos too much. Or those times when sugar that would be found _everywhere_.

**3. Eldritch**

Mara Frey graduated from university at age 21. She married young, lost her husband, joined a federal agency and got shipped off to South Dakota to an unknown but Very Important agency.

Mara Frey died in active duty near the coast of New England during a freak season of massive squid sightings at the age of 30. Her body was never found.

**4. Volatility**

Excerpt from Spring edition of _Enchantresses and Numbers_:

A smile twitches at the corner of her mouth as she takes another sip of tea. "Sometimes, it takes a little time to find our own way. Sixteen is a very… volatile age."

I try studying her expression, which is almost wry. She then smiles and reaches for another spice scone before sending the plate to my direction with a flick of her fingers.

Madam Frey warms again when discussing her academic work, of uniformity principles in interstellar transfusion. "Marvelous touchy work," she says with a light laugh. "My colleague has far worse words for it but you shouldn't let him fool you on that account."

**5. Sides of a Coin**

The Headmistress kept a squash garden on the roof of her tower. Occasionally fruit dangled from its eaves and grew too heavy. Gravity invariably ensued and hapless students were sometimes treated to a squelchy surprise. No one ever got hurt of course; these were raised by the Headmistress after all.

It invariably amused the deputy headmistress, who solemnly denied ever being seen hovering above said roof perhaps doing some judicious pruning.

"Shield response, girls," she would point out with a perfectly sober expression.

There were rumors that the deputy headmistress did have wings; she just never chose to show them. It took a lot more energy to hover, after all, as she herself explained in class, usually while writing notes starting from the top of the blackboard, the soles of her feet glowing with deep blue motes of light.

In the privacy of the Headmistress's purple-decorated office, the deputy headmistress poured coffee for two, idly directing the silver sugar pot to put two lumps in each cup. "They don't listen, every year," she grumbled.

"Be easy on them, dear," the Headmistress said, accepting the cup that floated to her. Late afternoon sunlight tinted her candy apple red hair with gold.

"It's a simple enough concept. Light and Dark and Fairy and Witch – but there's only magic."

The Headmistress smiled a little wanly as she sliced the teacake (pumpkin and dark chocolate topped with roasted nuts). "It is rather novel an idea…" she replied diplomatically

The deputy headmistress muttered something ungracious and sighed. "Well, it's about time we do the turnaround, isn't it?" She reached around and scratched at her back, right between her shoulder blades.

"If you could humor me more than once a year at orientation?" asked the Headmistress. "You won't get stuck that way, you know…"

The deputy headmistress said something unrepeatable as the Headmistress laughed.

But, with a half-smile, the woman shook her hair back and it was for just a single moment long enough to reach mid-back as sunlight glittered on the outline of black and white feathers just barely hovering at her shoulders. Then it was gone and it could have been a trick of the light.

The Headmistress patted her companion's hand. "Not opposing, but complementary, and not even truly separate," she said with a beatific smile.

And the other woman found her lips twitching into a real smile before hiding it behind her coffee cup.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I know this is something like maddening teasing for followers of "Under Shadowed Wings." Unfortunately, while I would love to go back and replot and write the entire story, my current schedule doesn't allow for such an effort. So I'm coming back to the sandbox to play around for a little bit.

I had some issues with the title. It was circulating around the idea of Mara saying "Screw you" to someone or something but in the end making her own badass life outside of Red Fountain.

The first scene was Mara choosing to join a professional mercenary agency with W, doing intelligence gathering, counter-intel and assassination. Not precisely heroics or actual military work. Sing out if you get the _Dune_ reference.

A reader once told me that they felt that W was gay. Well, here's the Word of God: W is bisexual. He's fairly close to the middle of the Kinsey scale (equal attraction to both sexes). He finds women hotter than men, or at least, he vocalizes his attraction to women more loudly. So guys hitting on him as a psychological weapon doesn't perturb him one bit. He does find it a bit annoying.

Second one was Mara joining Mme. Ruri's "firm" as a chemist and contractor of miscellaneous… jobs. Why? Because who knows what we want to do at 16? Inspired by my former dream to become a pathologist and my own hobby of baking. I haven't gone into cake decorating though.

Third scene – if any of you follow a certain SyFy show… I'm convinced that should Mara ever leave, weirdness will _always_ follow her.

Fourth scene – Mara joins Gray Mountain and completely decimates their gender segregated training program. I would actually love to develop the Gray Mountain school further aside from the throwaway lines I had.

Fifth – Mara doesn't so much surrender to fate/inevitability as make it work for her – by completely dissembling the Cloud Tower-Alfea distinctions and prejudices. But not just by herself – because Mirta had so much potential as an utterly kick-ass, interesting character in her own merit. I now have a headcanon that Faragonda took her on as a personal protégé, because of their similar initial backgrounds as witches.


End file.
